Grand Love
by Archristol
Summary: The sequel to Skinny Love. / The pain of a broken heart is not so harsh to kill someone yet not so little to allow them to live. / WIP. Femslash. Morrigan&FCousland.
1. Chapter 1 All of Me

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**Grand Love  
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by Archristol

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Chapter 1 - **All of Me  
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_–– This is the sequel to Skinny Love. Please search my profile and read that first. Thank you.  
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[-]_  
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Her footsteps were light – yet lazy – in entering the spacious dining room. Its countless glossy items, such as polished wooden furniture and earthenware decorations, heightened the brightness that the morning sun emitted diagonally through tall windows. Overwhelmed, she ceased moving her fancy moccasins within contact of an enormous area rug and permitted herself the undivided concentration in rubbing her eyes to wake.

But it seems that all she really needed to wake was an abrupt hand to the crown of her head and a nagging statement of the truth.

"You look tired baby..." the soft, and somehow also authoritative, voice inclined like worried eyebrows.

"_Moo~m_..." Ophelia slouched while standing.

Eleanor bent slightly at her knees and took a better look at her daughter's hazy bubble blue eyes. "Did you not get enough beauty sleep, _hmmm_?"

"I _diddd_!" Ophelia whined with a tenacious stomp then demonstrated a tenacious portrait smile, "Don't you see how beautiful I am?"

"_Ohhh~_ You are very pretty, my dear," Eleanor clarified by caressing her youngster's cheeks then pinching them for cuteness' sake. "I'm so sorry I even began to assume otherwise... How incredibly _rude _of me." She exaggerated a pout.

Unimpressed, Ophelia simply swerved her head away then apathetically moseyed towards her customized seat on the lengthy dining table, one throw pillow as a booster and everything. She climbed into it and found her usual breakfast readied for her: oatmeal plus some strawberries and an orange juice on the side. During that transition, Eleanor had sat across of her and joined in at the consummation of breakfast.

They were skillfully silent as their eating utensils clinked in their bowls and their mouths chewed leisurely. But in the midst of every movement, emerald eyes never unglued from the small blonde head.

And it wasn't much later that the juvenile bounced and barked in her seat, "Stop looking too long at me while I'm eating, please!" Her dangling feet semi-squirmed from under the table.

"But you are especially beautiful today, darling!" the satin blonde woman jutted her head forward and smirked enthusiastically, deliberately testing her daughter's patience. When the younger brows furrowed, she reclined back and returned her spoon in the bowl then assured quite seriously, "_Mmkay_, mommy will stop if you continue with your food."

Ophelia glowered at her parent to ensure her peace then sighed a breath that could resuscitate the dead before brashly recapturing her spoon and refilling her mouth. Though she endeavored not to make a mess, the independent half-a-decade old girl couldn't avoid some of the crushed oats from piling in the slope between her lower lip and her chin. In her reach for the table napkin on her lap, her graceful swipe of it around her lips, her rearrangement of it over her thighs, then her attention's redirection back to her plate – that she accidentally glanced at her mother – who remained watching her in interminable pleasure. "You are still looking too long!" Dishware clanked as her palms banged at the table and she lifted her torso up to tower over her breakfast.

Eleanor giggled, propping her cheek against her fist while she admired her belligerent offspring, "It's called staring."

Ophelia attempted to preserve her taunting appearance (which was unsurprisingly more entertaining than intimidating for the anticipant Teyrna) but her grimace stiffened to the extent that it started to hurt. She quickly blinked five times then finally surrendered by lowering back into her chair. "I was out of bed last night..."

Eleanor first expressed her mock shock then giggled some more, "_Ahh_...Hahaha..." She folded her arms and quirked an inquisitive brow, "I knew it. And what will be the crime to determine your punishment this time, _hmm_?"

Ophelia slumped in defeat and beheld a twinkling vase in the distance. "I hided in something..." she admitted plainly, noticeably ashamed.

"You hid in something?" Eleanor's tone was less buoyant.

"Then I scared..." Ophelia's fingers picked subconsciously at the grooves of her armrest. "Three kids..."

"You hid in something then scared three kids?" Eleanor's chin tilted a bit higher and her tone grew more skeptic.

"Yes..." Ophelia nodded then declared in a hushed yet rushed voice, "I hided in a barrel then scared the three kids who stealed food from our pantry..."

Emeralds broadened from their sockets. "The thieves that have been stealing our food from the pantry?" Eleanor's seat creaked backwards as she stood. "Ophelia!" She was visibly disconcerted now. "What if they weren't just kids?!"

Ophelia mumbled, "Then I stay in the barrel."

"N-No, Ophelia!" Eleanor disapproved strongly, "It does not work that way!" she was critical enough that she encircled the table to confront her child, "What did I tell you about precaution, Ophelia?"

Ophelia sunk slowly, "That I must not poke around what might hurt me..."

"Yes." Eleanor tapped her index finger on the surface of the table for emphasis, a firm hand on her hip. "Exactly. And you know very well the consequence for your disobedience."

"But mom..." Ophelia's baby blue eyes ventured to her mother's and pleaded for leniency, "They are kids like me and they can't hurt me... I scared them and I said I will scream for guards if they come near..."

"It makes no difference. Your consequence will be the same," Eleanor's words were cold and crisp like ice.

"_Noo_!" Ophelia kicked at air.

"Ophelia, calm yourself!"

"I didn't have to tell you!" she kicked again, teeth beginning to clench along with her fists.

"You would have to, eventually!" Eleanor grasped the youngster's wrists in an effort to regain control. "Ophelia!"

Ophelia terminated her tantrum momentarily, trusting her mother might accept her explanation. "But they are needy and poor! They need our help!" she whined rationally, "Father always told me that helping is good!"

"I didn't dispute that, Ophelia. I disputed your approach," Eleanor lectured with more composure then inhaled heavily, retrieving her compassion from within her lungs. This wasn't the first time her child committed mischief. "Tell me who these kids are and where they are now."

Ophelia adjusted her uniform's cuffs as she timidly claimed, "They are in their house now, I think. I only speaked to their leader."

"Their leader?"

Diminutively exhilarated her mother inquired about it, she repressed the urge to smile as she babbled, "Moira. She's a pretty girl who will see me again tomorrow afternoon, after school. Because... I promised not to get her into trouble in a humble trade for her friendship."

Eleanor kind of snorted, fascinated of her kid's increasing vocabulary, "Humble trade, huh?" she twisted her stance into a more comfortable one, leaning against the table, "And she's a girl?"

"Yes," Ophelia proudly proclaimed with animated gestures, "She is this high. Black hair like to here. Brown eyes..." she paused, eyes down and a pointing finger pressed on her lips. She was contemplating whether she forgot a detail or not. "And very _very_pretty!" she roused with a wide beam and a rainbow over her head.

Charmed, Eleanor's shoulders somewhat shuddered before she quizzed, "And how old is this pretty girl that led a group of thieves?"

"I think she's just a little older than me..."

"Oh? How do you know?"

"She has those cute things," Ophelia thrust a finger out, indicating her mother's bosom.

"Th-these?" Eleanor nearly reeled backwards from astonishment as she put a hand on the 'cute things,' "She has developed breasts?"

"_Mmhmm_," Ophelia bobbed her head dramatically like it was a rotating pedal.

Eleanor shrugged skeptically, "Well, then she could be an adult for all you know."

Ophelia immediately jumped out of her seat, "No! She's still young like me. I know it, mom!" her hands traveled to the skirt of Eleanor's dress and crumpled it to protest, "You called kids like her – kids too!"

Eleanor reconsidered by chuckling, "So she's an adolescent. Maybe a preteen."

Completely ecstatic, Ophelia settled her chin on her mother's stomach as she crumpled her dress even further, "Yes! Yes! Preteen sounds right!"

"Is that right?" Eleanor divided Ophelia's loose bangs out of appreciation for what was extremely cute.

"Very much indeed!"

Ophelia's squeaky sweet voice and remarkable vocabulary had Eleanor swooning like a hormonal teenager. "Ugh! How can I punish a child like you!" She literally swept her child off of her feet, carried her, then bombarded her face and upper body with hard-pressed kisses, muttering in its midst, "You are the smartest–most adorable child–one could ever hope–to conceive!"

"_Mooo~m_!" Ophelia squirmed but chortled incessantly, the barrage tickling her, "Mom! Put me down! My chest is hurt!" she unknowingly described thanks to the overpowering tickles becoming unbearable.

Eleanor contained herself and gradually stopped. "I could eat you alive," she imparted with a smirk before gingerly setting the small feet on the ground. She would've chosen to battle and win against the delighted aqua irises, however, remembering their earlier conversation, she exhaled carefully and reinstated kindheartedly, "If you are telling the truth and truly think that they could use our help..." At the sentence, her daughter lit up in keenness. She smiled and mandated, "Then I will speak to your father and we will arrange to meet with this new 'friend' of yours. Will you allow that?"

Ophelia clasped her hands together, producing a loud clap that echoed through the dining hall, "Yes, mom! That will be perfect!" then she unlatched them, reminded of her problem, "...But I will have to trick her because she can't know that I told..."

"_Haha_. Whatever you must do, honey..." Eleanor hunched over and waited for Ophelia to tiptoe for a kiss, "I love you so much..." she said then left a strong peck on her cheek. "Though, after all this, you must still be punished a little. Do you understand?" she craftily added last.

Ophelia droned, "Yes, mom..."

"Good girl," Eleanor straightened her posture then patted her daughter's head to prompt her, "You're almost done. Finish your oatmeal so we can get going, alright, sweetie?"

"_Okaaay_…" Ophelia reverted to her old lethargic movement like the past five minutes hadn't occurred, plopping into her chair like a lump on a log.

[-]

A saucer with an embossed design like vines tinkled as a lightweight cup was placed gingerly over it.

"Moira Loxley…" Bryce reiterated with additional importance after sipping his tea. "A fitting name for a fine young woman," he complimented the interviewee while forming a friendly face. "And how old are you?"

"Thirteen years old," Moira replied stoically from her spot transversely from him and his wife, a glass coffee table conveniently separating her from utter terror. On the other hand, Ophelia was on another single sofa adjacent to her, noticeably ogling her with big bug eyes.

"Thirteen?" Bryce had known but acted the part of the not wholly apprised Teyrn anyway. "Really? I reckon you've lied about your age before. You look mature."

Moira acknowledged straightforwardly, "I usually say that I'm seventeen." In between answers, she had been veering her eyes away from his to briefly thwack the gnat beside her using her globular paddles, although to no avail.

"I figured as much," Bryce chuckled weakly from the response as much as the discreet war brewing in front of him. "And do you hang around teenagers of that age?"

Moira crossed her legs to seemingly lessen the pressure stacking upon her. "Sometimes," she intoned coolly. At least she had a natural confidence and callousness for the evident difference in their quality of clothing and mannerism.

_As if she even cared to impress them… She didn't really want an attachment with the kid._

"Not for trouble, I'm certain. You are a responsible young lady, are you not?" Bryce eyed her more intently.

"I do what I think is right."

"Ah... And so do I," he chuckled weakly again. Satisfied with the overview, he diverted the topic and improved his position, "Enough introductions. I think you know why you're here."

"Your daughter…" Moira gulped involuntarily, "Invited me, my lord."

"Invite? Are you sure she didn't bribe or blackmail you?" Bryce asked lightheartedly, "She has done so quite the number of times with others in the past. We constantly scold her not to."

Moira twitched inside. _The question was premeditated. Silly and candidly sounding as it may be._

"That she did," Eleanor chimed in, her countenance milder yet as merry as her husband's, "I know you're not one to be taken advantage of, but you can tell us if she did."

"_Uhh_..."

But she winked before Moira could explicate, "We're simply joking about that. Don't answer."

Frankly not done with their wily insinuations, Bryce hastily inserted, "By the way, I heard you live in Harper's Ford? There's a rumor there that someone with power has been secretly overpricing food for certain families in order to control them. Tell me, is that true?" His face spelled 'we already know.'

And Moira could discern the letters in uppercase. "Could we be excused for just a second?" She requested for permission – yet automatically got on her feet and extended a hand for Ophelia who endured gawking dumbly.

Bryce relaxed in his seat and freely signaled toward the door, "Sure. Be my guest."

Moira modeled a smile, bowed at the waist, snatched the engrossed youngster's wrist, then dragged her swiftly out of the grand living room.

Twenty-five bedecked feet away from the doorway, the realization that they were out of the room hit Ophelia like a bale of stampeding turtles. "Why are we out here?"

They halted and Moira shoved a finger on Ophelia's shoulder. "You told. Didn't you?!" she accused, her bronze eyes uncompromising.

Clueless, Ophelia cocked her head, "Huh?"

"You didn't see how your parents were acting?" Moira shook her head in disbelief then grabbed Ophelia by the sides and probed, "Did you tell?"

Ophelia fiddled with the hem of her shirt, "I... Might have spilled a couple of things..."

"YOU TOLD!" Moira bellowed in a volume that would be 'acceptable' to neighboring eavesdroppers. "The deal is off!"

"What?" Ophelia pretended she didn't comprehend her fit of temper.

"I'm not teaching you squat!" Moira reworded for maximum concreteness.

"_WHAT_?!" Ophelia buried her fingers in her short hair, tousled it, and exclaimed, "But this will help you and your family!"

"We don't need any help from rich folk! We've always carried our own weight!" Moira had been pacing the narrow hallway roughly as she carped about what would be the most fortuitous event of her life.

"You stealed food from our pantry and now you are offered help and you say '_no thank you_?!'" Ophelia deduced like an esteemed arbiter.

And it maddened Moira she had no comeback. "Shut up!"

_That wasn't the point. The point was getting attached._

"And is what I did, not better?" The five year old girl was honestly sounding more and more like an esteemed arbiter by the minute –_ it was ridiculous_. "My father will surely biscipline the people arassing your family and friends!"

"Discipline?" Moira repeated, noting her sophisticated language yet _undeniably adorable_ mispronunciations.

At the single slanted brow, Ophelia nodded assertively, "Yes. Is that not what you want? Biscipline them?" as she questioned her, she made a steady chopping motion with one hand – a decent impersonation of her father.

Moira's jaw dropped in awe. _Really? This brat? _But as soon as it had dropped, she snarled, "Just shut up! I didn't want your help!"

Ophelia knew that she had already won, however, so she grinned, lightly bouncing on her tiptoes with her hands behind her back.

Moira breathed angrily for ten seconds, mulling over what to do – or more accurately, mulling over why she was mulling over it. She just had too much pride. "Don't you dare smirk when we go back out there or the deal is completely off!" she demanded sharply, the decision made.

Ophelia virtually shouted from glee, "Yes, Madame!" Then she followed the brunette as she marched back toward the living room.

"Don't even speak!" Moira spiraled around snappishly that the blonde flinched. "If you think I'll be nicer to you after all this, you're sadly mistaken!"

"Whatever you say, Madame!" Ophelia guaranteed then continued to trail after her.

Once they have reentered the midafternoon lit room, Bryce examined, "Is everything alright?"

Moira reclaimed her seat without any sign of antipathy. "Swell, my lord."

"Pup?"

"Swell, my father," Ophelia copied, also brushing her lap.

"You two are some pair," Bryce observed pleasantly, assuming a fantastic partnership in the future between them. "In any case, I apologize for the questions. It was intrusive of me, seeing that you are a good friend of my daughter," he still excused what everyone knew was prearranged. "On to the crux of the matter – as I have other matters to attend to… You offered to be my daughter's guardian, yes?"

"_Yes_…" Moira could roll her eyes at all the playacting – _but maybe later. She was thankful enough not to be interrogated about her village's situation… Yet._

"Pup has spoken to me," Bryce recalled, "How she desperately wanted my approval of your companionship."

"Well…" Moira feigned zeal, giggling while glimpsing at Ophelia with half-lidded eyes, "_You know_…"

"You have one week."

Her spine bolted straight. "My lord?"

"One week to prove to me, my wife, and, obviously, my daughter that you deserve to be her guardian for life," Bryce established sternly.

"Until I'm big!" Ophelia threw her hands in the air and nitpicked.

"Oh–yes, yes." Bryce's stern façade faded as he laughed. "Until she's grown."

Ophelia cupped the sides of her own face and melodramatically conveyed, "And then she can be my _Hélooiissse_"

Bryce regarded Eleanor for a hint, "Héloise?"

Eleanor wasn't definite herself but vaguely recollected storybook characters, "And Abélard?"

Moira rubbed her forehead sheepishly, "I do not want to know…"

The married couple snickered while Ophelia pored over her in captivation.

Not too many seconds later, Bryce queried, "So what say you?" He went the extra mile to grant the typical, "We pay well."

Moira almost scoffed but held it in. "I have no qualms about the payment; though, I _do_ want payment," she affirmed then breathed in and out serenely to wisely determine her fate, scanning the eager Cousland family. It was futile that she had to try and deny it. _They were a lovely family and she had everything to gain and nothing to lose. Just maybe her sanity, if the little monster seared her icy core._ She heaved a sigh, "I will do it…"

"Then it is settled," Bryce eyeballed Ophelia for her reaction.

"_YES_!" his daughter sprang up and dashed to him gratefully, practically smacking her head on his stomach as she arrived, "Thank you, father! Thank you so much!"

Bryce cradled her over his torso and embraced her lovingly, "Anything for you, pup."

Meanwhile, Moira stood and checked herself like she had just woken up with a bad hangover, "What have I gotten myself into…?"

"The best experience of your life, hun," Eleanor approached her and clutched her shoulders to genuinely encourage , "Ophelia's a handful but that is only because she is a total bundle of joy."

Just when Moira thought she had recuperated, the flea came zooming for her.

"Moira!"

And she collided against her gut so harshly that she might as well have been in a bad hangover.

"Moira! Moira!" Ophelia yelled for attention, arms snugly wrapped around her waist and hopping repetitively like the older girl was a toy pony waiting to be climbed on.

Moira spoke in monotone, eyes on a houseplant, "What?"

_Task number one…_

"Lift me!"

[-]

Her bedchamber would've been black with darkness, if not for one faint candle light. The moon could've assisted too, but thick curtains covered the open windows. In fact, parting them required a fair amount of strength – for someone infiltrating soundlessly.

He cautiously ambled forward, heeding the candle light's illumination, calculating the angle for when his shadow might appear in her view.

_The distance from where it was lit and her bed – someone else had ignited it._

Ebony boots ceased from imprinting another footstep.

_Was he in the correct room?_

He could see her tangled blonde hair sprawled chaotically and the back of her slender form as she was faced the opposite side, the covers draped messily around her body. It was unusually messier than what was normal for a noblewoman – the pillow she was sleeping on had come undressed, there were food stains on whatever was fabric, and the bed linen from under her was loose and not entirely tucked in beneath the mattress.

Contrariwise, around her bed, everything was organized – the unblemished floor was embellished with well-placed rugs, the well-polished wooden dresser and drawers were properly closed, and the nightstands were not a centimeter unequal apart from the edge of the bed. Everything but where she rested was clean and the scene could only suggest that she hadn't departed the bed for a lengthy period, simply consenting servants in for housekeeping.

_But why?_

He resumed to linger onward, still cautious. All the while, he scrutinized her shallow breathing. Then at the side closest to him and farthest from her, he halted again, ruminating if this undertaking was a waste of time or not.

_He estimated to be caught as he came in. He couldn't assassinate her. Let alone assassinate her sleeping and most likely weak. He would get vengeance with honor._

He reached for the weapons on his back. "Ophelia Cousland..." he called, equipping his bow, the back of his jawbone anchoring his right hand. "Rise," he commanded, aiming for his target, the tip of his nose touching the bowstring. "Fight for your life so I can take it," he released the bowstring and it snapped – the arrow just about grazing her arm before busting an ornament beside her.

If the loudness of the crashing sound didn't wake her, then the shattered glass that burst and scattered in front of her should've.

But it didn't, and he huffed out of frustration.

He permitted a dozen seconds to pass before his patience took its toll and he had to encircle the bed and derogatively inspect her on the other side.

Her face was gaunt, her collarbone protruding, her miserable eyes sealed and unmoving.

"Is this truly the Hero of Ferelden?" he sneered, having faith that she could perceive him, "The one who killed the archdemon?" he was on the brink of yelling…

…When she simultaneously opened her eyes half-way, diamonds blank.

"And the one who killed my father?!"

In that instance, she flew out of the bed like a leaf blown by a powerful wind. Gray eyes widening, he barely dodged the stiletto that was flung at him then – forsaking the bow he held to nippily unsheathe his daggers – he barely blocked the fast-paced offensive the woman hurled at him. He gritted his teeth at her wild yet precise slashes and thrusts, the force from his parries ringing in his hands. By luck or some other nature, he was able to sneak one swipe in and scratch her left tricep. Though, she received injury, there was no pause.

He had no idea where she had the other arm to pull another dagger, but it landed on his thigh and he grunted in pain, "_Ggh_!" he depended on one leg as he limped a foot backwards. Then, as he predicted, the female rogue claimed her imminent victory, kicking the inner thigh of his wounded leg and pushing him to stumble to back unto the ground.

Her knee dug into his chest as she pinpointed her dagger unto his jugular.

"You..." Nathaniel panted resentfully, brows crumpled and nose crinkled. _Her strength was shockingly comparable to the undead, skinny and lanky yet able to overthrow him effortlessly. It was infuriating. _"G-go ahead and kill me like you did my father! I would of done the same!"

The corners of Ophelia's lips curved upwards and her gleaming teeth became bare. "You reckon I'd feel any guilt afterward?" she put more pressure against his neck, the blade pricking his flesh and a pint of his blood oozing down below his ears. "It'll be easier than you think." She gazed at him with immense silver eyes, her lips parted like a starved lion as she whispered. "I'll open you up with my bare hands – just like him. The only difference is I'll keep you alive, so you can savor the feeling of exactly how your father suffered." She had dragged the dagger and traced his jawline while he persisted in his quiet grimace.

At the split-second Nathaniel thought of fighting back since she had not slain him, the double doors of her bedroom swung open.

"Ophelia?!" Fergus had barged in with two guards and an anxious mien, his long sword readily in hand.

That was when the short time before the glass shattered 'till after their clash ended became apparent to him. It had only been under a minute.

"This Howe challenged me to a duel and lost," Ophelia specified flatly but then bragged with a smile, "He is my prisoner now."

"For torture?" Fergus gently approached her and sheathed his weapon, hoping to peacefully mediate the situation, "The sister I know would never do that to anyone without reasonable fault," he implored, "Kill him or let him go through trial."

Ophelia snorted, "I would've done the same to his weakling of a father. This should be just as easy."

"Please, Ophelia," Fergus bent a tad and set a hand on her shoulder, "He does not share the crimes of his father. Kill him, as a fair outcome to the duel, or let him go through trial."

Ophelia didn't ponder before slapping his hand way, "Why do you care so much for his fate?! He's a Howe!"

"No!" Fergus retorted unrelentingly, "I care for your well-being! Just as you did mine when I had lost hope!"

Ignoring the Howe, Ophelia got up fully and met her older brother eye-to-eye, "Have you forgotten that I was the one who gave you your authority?!" she shoved him with one arm, "How dare you tell me what to do!"

Fergus opened his palms to her, offering his soul if he could, "I love you, sister. And I don't believe that you would approve of yourself right now – three months ago." He planned to say it before but he lacked motivation. And now was an impeccable moment for it.

Ophelia tapered her eyes at him, feeling threatened by his audacity to divulge it in a Howe's presence, "What do you really know of what happened before that?"

"I know enough that you were completely in love," Fergus muttered humbly, "And that her disappearance had left a deep crevice in your heart like it did mine after hearing that Oriana and Oren had died."

Ophelia tittered for a second, looking to the ceiling with watery eyes. "No..." She covered her nose and mouth with one hand and sniffed into it as if it was a mask to draw vitality from. Once she removed it to speak, the scowl couldn't be concealed, "No. It would've been better if she were dead." With that confession, she hastily trudged out of the room, mumbling spitefully as she did, "At least I wouldn't have to cope with her betrayal..."

"_Ophelia_...!" Fergus stretched an arm out to appease her but it was too late. He couldn't leave the assassin and he was left speechless. _Should he be mad of her comparison? Or concerned she preferred her ex-lover dead?_

Ostensibly just as puzzled by the dilemma, Nathaniel murmured, "She... Just walked away?"

Fergus resolutely upheld his hands on his hips but indecisively glanced at the floor, "At present..." he then glanced at his guards to instruct them, "Bring him to a stand."

They nodded then did as he asked, grabbing Nathaniel by the sides and supporting him to his feet.

Fergus studied his frame for a couple of seconds then enquired without a hint of sympathy, "What is your name?"

"I am Nathaniel Howe… And you must be Fergus Cousland," Nathaniel brought his chin up despite the slight ache, "I thought… That my father's murderer would be more... Level-headed."

"She is," Fergus confirmed austerely then promptly denied longer chitchat, "Now, I hope you don't mind but I'll have to deal with you later…" He locked eyes with the guards then directed as they had thought he would, "Take him to the prison."

Nathaniel acquiesced to his wish but uttered as they neared him, "Allow me to say one thing..." When he knew Fergus lent an ear, he made known, "Whatever my father did shouldn't harm my whole family. The Howes are pariahs now, those of us left."

Fergus had taken what he said into account then question him about what bewildered him, "Coming here and challenging her... Did you expect to win?"

Nathaniel inhaled severely to prepare elucidation, "After all I've heard? Like the rumors of her slaying Cauthrien sadistically, such that she sacrificed a fatal hit in order to entrap her?" He could discern Fergus understood and he snickered to himself. "No… Some even gossip how she could be a demon... With their meticulous observance of her flawless skin."

Again, the dark-haired Cousland understood, even with his indifferent visage.

"I realized in the moment her dagger pierced my throat – that I was angry about the manner in which my father died but also _greatly_curious of those intriguing rumors. And, in some sort of careless whim – I thought that she might spare me like she did Loghain." At this point, Nathaniel snickered audibly, "Not that I was scared to die. I was not scared to die – I had asked for the duel."

"Son of Howe––" Fergus gave one last once-over before dismissing him, "Your fate will be decided justly."

[-]

The crescent moon hovered high above, wispy cirrus clouds blocking its brightness to some measure. The winter air was placid but chilly, inciting for moderate layers of clothing. The height of the rooftop of Vigil's Keep didn't assist with warmth, either. It was high enough that it experienced more winds than below. But fortunately, the bonfires positioned at every corner made the night comfortable.

Fergus strode on the narrowed ledge with a folded cloak hung on his forearm. He had fetched it for Ophelia, informed by others that she had ascended up to the roof.

As he suspected, she was at an edge, peering over to survey the streets below and without suitable protection from the cold.

A feet from her back, he spread the cloak open and draped it over her shoulders.

"Forgive me..." Ophelia verbalized softly to him, though keeping her back to him, "It wasn't fair." She kept her emotionless façade, even as she expressed regret.

"It seems that her leaving wounded you much _much_ more than I imagined," he sustained. "But Ophelia..." he began sadly, wishing to induce her sympathy. He even moved to neighbor her, not necessarily gazing at her. "The people need us. Especially you..." he eyed her to check if he stirred anything – though, nothing. "Don't misunderstand, I am very grateful that you even came here," he hesitated for a second, his head drooping, "though, I suspect you merely did it to be devoid of anything that reminds you of her."

The paler blonde remained mute since his speech, only her hair visibly wavering with the breeze, cheekbones even unhealthily sharper against the cool highlights from the moon's luminance.

_He couldn't fathom why she had lost all hope because of one woman. Even in the past, she had never been so depressed that she rarely ate or rose from her bed for a prolonged duration._

Fergus swallowed to refrain from sounding helpless, "I'm trying my best but Amaranthine needs your leadership too. Not just mine. I am no Grey Warden and no Hero of Ferelden. The darkspawn are resurfacing and we have absolutely no clue as to why." He finally stared at her directly, begging for pity, either for him or their people, "Please, Ophelia. In a few months, without your help, there is a possibility we could get swallowed up by the darkspawn."

But like an opaque window, not a light penetrated.

"Everything I did didn't matter," Ophelia essentially mouthed, her voice scarcely a volume.

Fergus gawped at her. "It is her loss. Not yours," he inched his head closer, "Don't you see? If not _you _– who would love _her_?"

"I was a simple tool to be utilized then cast away."

Exasperated, he hammered a fist onto the stone ridge of the roof's border, "No. Definitely not. You are much more than that. You know that," he admonished with the utmost dogged tone he could muster. Regardless of whether she listened or not, he continued to talk to her, "Ophelia... There will be a meeting next week. Esmerelle will attempt to rule over Amaranthine if you do not reclaim your place. She will coerce the loyal nobles to reevaluate our leadership and capitalize your absence as an act of irresponsibility and incompetence, no doubt."

Ophelia purely blinked like a programmed metronome.

Fergus withdrew backwards after half a minute, gasping inaudibly while he flickered his eyelids like there were misplaced tears in them. Then after another half a minute of inwardly interrogating the stars and the skies, he twisted and immediately marched to return inside the castle.

[-]

Large throne room doors opened with a loud creak then closed with a loud thud.

"Seneschal Varel."

Varel's eyebrows upraised momentarily in sight of the quickly progressing Cousland, "Ser Fergus." He let him come to a halt before he apprehensively inquired, "Is there a problem?"

_From his body language and his late visit in the midnight, it had to be a problem._

As if to reduce his nerves, Fergus combed through his medium-length hair before firmly declaring, "I have deliberated that it will be a while before my sister recovers from this emotional turmoil she's in."

Varel commiserated in the best way he could, "I am sorry to hear that. Some say the pain of a broken heart is not so harsh to kill someone yet not so little to allow them to live."

"She will get through this. She had before," not one too optimistic, however, Fergus reassessed his account, "It's just... Not as easy as before." He bit his lower lip fretfully once, twice, then spat out, "Hence, I am forced to step up to the plate and lead this Arling to the best of my potential..." he focused all of his hazel gaze toward Varel, "By becoming a Grey Warden, myself."

The greying man made an abridged motion of what could be a shake of his head, "But Ser..."

Fergus speedily gestured a hand to silence him, "I am aware that this is a gamble. I can't even dream of accomplishing the things that my sister did, let alone if I cannot survive the Joining," then he rationalized in a pace where he would not be interrupted, "But I need to start somewhere. And that start is the Joining. I need the respect that only comes from being a Grey Warden and, in order to fight the darkspawn, I also need the abilities that only come from being a Grey Warden."

Varel strove to reproach, "But Ser... The risks... If it kills you..." he pondered prudently, scrubbing his stubble, "We will be in a deeper hole than we already are."

"No," Fergus reassured, "You won't be."

Varel lifted his chin, "If you die, who will lead us?"

"Amaranthine and Highever will not be destitute of a leader," Fergus insisted, not necessarily specifying if it would be when he is dead or alive.

Aware of the fastest outcome, Varel's face contorted spitefully, "I will die before we are led by Esmerelle."

"You won't have to," Fergus laid a hand on his shoulder.

"And how do you know that, Ser?"

"I know my sister."

[-]

Streams of moonlight seeped in between curtain gaps – the mere light in the darkness.

Ophelia shut her eyes and wrinkled the whiteness she sunk into. They have been replaced – yet they were just as barren and frozen to her, including the weight that was over her – supposedly to warm her.

But nothing could compensate for the coldness of her loneliness. She chose to imprison herself in her bed in order to feel as little as she could. Just to sleep and sleep until something happened. Until she died of malnutrition. Or until she died from a sickness because of malnutrition. _Or maybe until she returned._

She could've ended it – slit her own throat, drowned herself in a tub, banged her head on a wall again…

Though, strangely unlike before, there was something that stopped her.

She was on the edge of falling into sleep when a bird's whistling disrupted her. The whistles were short at first, just to notify her. Then it was longer and shriller.

With no real purpose as to why, she eventually pushed herself up, retrieved her cloak, and wandered toward her patio, separating heavy drapery before seeping to the outside and chilling her feet.

She almost didn't see it ahead of the mass of bristling trees in the background… Till enormous wings expanded majestically and it glided from the railing far from her then hovered by her.

Time must've stopped as she subconsciously raised an arm and remembered why a great black hawk belonged to her.

It boggled her mind as it propped on her forearm with its claws, whistling noisily and shifting unstably.

Ophelia could sense the tear welling up in her eyes as she stroked the restless bird, "_Shhh_..."

_How could she have forgotten…_

It became soothed with her touch, steadying and ceasing its noise. It had smooth jet black feathers and a dark bill, merely the legs and cere yellow. She couldn't help but admire its beauty for a minute before she backed up against a wall. With that needed bolster, she checked the small compartment she installed on its leg, peering and darting a finger in the cylindrical shape. There was a tiny slip of paper, so she extracted it.

_To whomever reads this..._

_A woman with–_

Instantly discovering the note she wrote herself, she scoffed pathetically then sluggishly descended downward to sit on the floor, her head leaning on the wall.

_This hawk... Was helping to find what she had lost. That was what stopped her._

She breathed raggedly and shut her eyes once more, glimmering crystals spilling.

[-]

_Is there a cure for this pain,  
Maybe I should have something to eat,  
But food won't take this emptiness away,  
I'm hungry for you my love._

_Well I made it through another day,_  
_In my cold room,_  
_On scraps and pieces left behind,_  
_I survive on the memory of you._

_All of me is all for you,_  
_You're all I see,_  
_All of me is all for you,_  
_You're all I need._

_Is there a remedy for waiting,_  
_For loves victorious return,_  
_Is there a remedy for hating,_  
_Every second that I'm without you._

_All of me is all for you,_  
_You're all I see,_  
_All of me is all for you,_  
_You're all I need._

_All this life is all for love,_  
_It's the only road I'll choose,_  
_And every street and avenue,_  
_Only one will lead me back to you._

_One Love, One Love, One Love,_  
_One Love, One Love, One Love._

* * *

**Song**

"All of Me" by Angus & Julia Stone

* * *

**Feedback for I'm God**

* * *

******************LightPoetry**: As copy pasted from the PM, for others to see... I am aware, but I honestly have never read Hamlet so I can't give Hamlet as my reason. I did hear about her madness, however. And her drowning... You make me want to read it... But you've read how I feel about reading. Lol. Wish they had assigned that instead of MacBeth in my freshman year of high school...

**Dalish Elf**: Glad to hear from you anyhow. Don't fret. :P How's the sequel?

******************Lord Tubbington**: Haha. Just for you. I might, one day. If I had all the free time in the world. You're a lass? So who's on your icon if it's not you? :O Just curious. How you liking this sequel? :D

**knives4cash**: Hey hey. It's not done yet. Here's the sequel. Hehe. Thanks for the nice words, either way. :3

**egiaprevolg**: iPhones are great! I think I write more there... Since I'm not tempted to surf the net every five seconds. XD I hope this wait wasn't too long? Thanks for the boost of confidence, as always. :DD

**Random Reader**: Lol. You're the first one I've heard that doesn't want love triangles. Idk. We'll have to see what I do with this. ;) Thanks for reviewing! I think you're new? Do tell me if you've made it here. :D

**LunarOphelia13**: I've had the idea of including Ophelia's back story in here before you mentioned it. ;D So how is it? And thanks for the recommendations. I've heard of Jen Foster's song. Yuppp.

**Condor green**: Cool! Always happy to hear from new readers! Tell me if you read this one. :D Yes, Isabela romance will be hard to include here. Actually... I don't believe so. Sorry. D: Thanks for the compliment btw. S2

**frstwolf210**: To be honest... That question was just to tease. XD I didn't really prepare another love interest but yea... Glad to hear you think they're perfection! Makes me all tingly inside. Haha. Thanks for reviewing! Are you new? Tell me. :3

Thanks for the compliments, ratings, and reviews everyone! Review again please.

* * *

**Author's Note**

* * *

As promised, here is the sequel. I plan to solidify Ophelia's back story while Awakening happens. I figured that hearing Moira speak is kinda like hearing Morrigan speak. And her presence would make it not so depressing as we wait for Morrigan's return.

And don't worry. I'll introduce more characters from Awakening. Next update would most likely be after the holidays though.

Did you guys like it? What did you guys expect? Is Ophelia's new pet anything you've heard of before in other stories? Please review. :D

* * *

**Rate the Chapter (5 Best, 1 Worst)**

* * *

5 - More than entertaining. (Love it. Would read it more than once.)

4 - Entertaining. (But missing a thing or two...)

3 - Good. (But can be better.)

2 - Boring. (Scanned through just to move forward in the plot.)

1 - Redo everything bitch. (I would rather shoot myself than read this.)

* * *

**Credits**

* * *

Morrigan and the Dragon Age Universe © Bioware

Song Lyrics © Their respective artists (named above.)

Ophelia Cousland and Moira Loxley © Archristol

Story © Archristol

* * *

**Story Music ** tinyurl -dot- com /grandlovesongs

**Story Illustrations **archristol . deviantart . com

\


	2. Chapter 2 Youth

\

* * *

**Grand Love  
**

by Archristol

* * *

Chapter 2 - **Youth  
**

* * *

Squinted eyes,

Scrunched eyebrows,

A hand shivering from the cold;

It was infrequent that would Ophelia wake up early in the morning with a thin but bright ray of light on her face and splitting her rumpled bed and her rumpled vision.

From her face-down position, she groaned faintly as she partially untangled from the sheets, pushed upwards with an arm, and slowly sat up to immediately escape the torment as if that had been the only solution. Then again and instantly, she shut her eyes and hunched her shoulders, swaying calmly without knowing – like she was put in a trance and rocking on a flimsy bridge.

Even though goose bumps scattered on her pale frame, she remained upright and unmoving for five frozen minutes. Only until a distinguishable noise seeped through her consciousness did she slightly unpeel her eyelids and try to decipher what was happening in the hall adjacent to her room.

If she had to make an assumption, Fergus was getting ready to start the day – what with the scrambling feet of some soldiers or servants plus his deep voice instructing them.

"_Yes. I'll be there shortly,"_ was the single statement that pricked her and intrigued her.

"…_I'll tell the Seneschal,"_ came from a man who must be Captain Garavel.

As predicted, his footsteps followed, seemingly brisk in pace and firm in manner – the stomps of his boots loud enough as he turned toward what should be the atrium leaving their sleeping quarters.

Her blank stare drooped to the foot of her bed.

_Why the errand? Normally, he would already be out of the door without their call if it was a darkspawn emergency. Otherwise, it would be a meeting involving political matters. But it was too early in the morning and meetings were usually appointed in the midafternoon to ensure everyone would be there._

She waited for a door that opened to close before she finally brought her legs to the edge of her bed and gingerly stood. The fur of the carpet on the floor didn't help warm her bare feet as she ambled to the door and paused there, a careful hand on the knob.

More footsteps ensued – and the pattern was easily identifiable as her own brother's. It did the same thing as Garavel's, stomps loud enough to be heard as he turned and left the atrium and their sleeping quarters.

To ensure that her brother was gone, she allowed the hall a minute interval of peace before twisting the knob, opening the door, and blinded herself even further with the luminance. She started with an inch to peer and then, when she found that no one was particularly watching her, she widened the gap and passed through.

The winter cold stung even more as she walked down the hall, one layer of loose long-sleeves and pants, searching for a clue or a servant that could give her one. She chose to go down halfway of the hallway Fergus must have took and halted once she saw a housekeeper dusting a perfectly fine display table and its ornaments in a perpendicular hall. The woman noticed her and timidly (and perhaps mistakenly) made eye contact but quickly diverted it and continued her task silently, frightened of the rogue.

Ophelia pursed her lips momentarily out of annoyance then trudged towards her. "Care to tell me what's going on?" she probed quite sternly.

The woman ceased her dusting and cowered a little at her question, stuttering as she answered, "Not that I know of, milady."

Ophelia quirked an uncompromising brow.

"Ser Fergus merely wished to make sure that everyone had a job to do for the remainder of the week."

"Then why was Garavel up and about our quarters at this hour?"

"The Captain?" the woman mumbled _'uhhh' _then shook her head ashamedly, "Please forgive me but I have no idea, milady."

Disappointed, Ophelia exhaled sharply through her nose. "Fine," then she twisted and quickly returned to the hall leading into the atrium. She accepted that if their subordinates couldn't help her, she would ask Fergus herself.

Granted, she never cared about knowing what was occurring around her anymore. But then again, she had always been accustomed to work and was subconsciously cognizant of their routine – and today's was a bit unusual.

In her journey to the throne room, plenty of guards eyed her dubiously but none dared to stop her, fearful that they would inevitably be put in their place. However, right at the entrance of her destination, a spear swung in front of her as one of the two guard watches blocked the next few feet between her and the sturdy double doors.

_He was either a new recruit or a stubborn man._

"Sorry, milady." The soldier reclaimed the spear vertically in his hand then stepped sideways in its place to better serve as the barricade and converse with her face-to-face. "The Seneschal wants absolutely no one else inside until he comes out himself."

_"No one?"_Ophelia tested with an irritated tone, eyes somewhat broadened from a revelation unfolding in her mind.

"Yes, milady. I'm sorry."

_Only the Joining could be held so private at a time like this._

"Let me inside or I will have to force my way through."

At her warning, the second guard took a stance. "Please, milady, we're just following orders."

"Then take mine," she warned again.

The two hesitated for a moment, but then they thought she moved a muscle and they reacted.

When the foremost guard leaned in with a hook, all in a couple of seconds, Ophelia leaned back on one leg then used that leverage to deliver a kick with her other leg and hit him square on the jaw – whilst also snatching a knife from his belt, twirling it in her hand so she's holding the bladed edge, then throwing it so the butt of the knife met the face of the other guard who was ten feet from her.

They collapsed on the ground almost simultaneously and she rolled her eyes at their futile attempt. Before someone else could protest, she grabbed the keys from the guard by her feet then unlocked the doors.

While pushing them open, her mouth suddenly fell agape and she yelled from utter disbelief at the sight of what was across the enormous room, _"Fergus?!"_

Her maddened but anxious voice echoed in the dimness vociferously that the two men in the middle were promptly at a standstill, looking at her.

"Fergus," she stomped onwards even with her dainty feet, "no!"

Fergus lowered the goblet he was about to drink from and gazed at his sister expectantly as soon as she arrived.

"What are you doing?!"

He lowered the goblet some more and unto a stone pedestal. "I must become a Grey Warden," he responded coolly.

"Absolutely not!" Ophelia sneered and knocked the goblet off its platform from a fit of resentment, "We've discussed this!"

The cup tinkled as it rolled on the carpeted surface, spilling the darkspawn blood it contained and inciting Seneschal Varel to pick it up before it completely messed the floor.

"I must," Fergus spoke gently but unwavering, "To protect Amaranthine."

"No!" Ophelia shouted still, "No, you don't!"

"Yes, I do."

"What is it that you really want, huh?!" she shoved him by the chest and exerted to the point where one might wonder where she got her energy, "My attention?! Is this what it's all about?!" she gestured for herself with her question then for him with another rough shove, "Well, here I am! You have my unbridled attention!"

"I need more than that," Fergus gulped as he was repeatedly pushed and beaten, "You know that." He tried to catch her aggressive hands and clasp them together, but to no avail.

"Are you trying to blackmail me?" Ophelia swallowed her emotions too, eyes beginning to gloss, _"...By risking your life?!"_

"If that is the cost to wake you... I will do it." At his vow, his sister's arms no longer thrashed. "I know you, Ophelia. You're my sister."

"No! You don't!" she disagreed, pivoting her angry grimace away and huffing raggedly.

Unable to argue after her outburst, the two men studied her worn out mien and felt a pang of guilt creep up their necks.

"Please, leave us alone for a moment," Fergus decided without regarding the older man.

Varel merely bowed, certain he was in his peripheral vision, then left straightaway.

For a number of seconds, and save for the sound of footsteps, it was entirely quiet inside the chamber.

Hinges creaked and a mechanism clicked as a door locked from faraway, then Ophelia muttered without delay, "She's different from Moira." Dismayed she had to compare, she tilted her head down. "Very different."

Fergus scowled and approached her little by little, "Make me understand. What is the true cause of all this grief, Ophelia?" His tone grew from consoling to admonishing with every step he took, "Is it simply because she left? Or is there something more? Why are you so upset as to give up on everything?!"

Fed up from every bitter memory provoked in her mind, she spat crossly, _"She's pregnant!"  
_  
"Pregnant?"

She beheld him directly as she clarified with an unnamable intensity in her eyes, _"With my child!"_Like grating the scab from a once deep wound, her voice trembled while she strained to explain, "A child that is rightfully mine! Through the power of what I have always possessed! With blood magic!"

"A... Child?" he whispered, outright flabbergasted, "Your… _Baby_?" His lips stayed parted.

"I wanted to search for her..." Ophelia wiped the tears welling up in her eyes then drifted to a hefty column for emotional more than physical support, her back to Fergus. "…So I may see my child when it is born," she sobbed softly, nearly undetectable, "But I was scared of what I might do to her..." she held it all in just to build it up for a tragic confession, hammering a fist on the column as she blistered with ire, "I want her in my arms – yet I'm unsure if it's to hug her or _hurt_her!"

"Ophelia..." Fergus lent a hand on her shoulder, "I'm sorry..."

But she shrugged it off and, instead, inclined even heavier unto the piece of marble. "Too many nights and days... I wondered how she was doing... Hoping she was okay but also hoping she was miserable as a knocked up wench, clueless on how to survive by herself with a child in her belly."

Assembling courage, he grasped at her shoulder again, "Stop. You're speaking out of anger. If you take your place as the commander of the Grey Wardens once again – _I_ can find her for you," he went the extra mile and pivoted her around to meet him, _"I will find her for you."_

"No. You'll never be able to," she swatted his hand away and proclaimed with conviction, "Only I can find her." Her countenance was rigid, gradually recovering its taciturnity.

Puzzled by her true intentions, he blinked before he queried, "Then what is your plan of action? _…Sleep?"_

"Last night, my hawk returned," she lingered farther again from him then finished, "...Though bringing back nothing."

"A hawk?"

"I've been relying on it to track her for me. Starting from the South, these past few months. Just by means of looking at it... It hears me – listens to me." She snickered as if it were amusing, "I had almost forgotten till last night."

Taking that tiny positive aspect as an opening, Fergus surreptitiously heartened, "Well... That's impressive. I'm sure that with time, it'll find something. As long as we're trying, it will get better."

Mindful of what he was doing, Ophelia scoffed and gave him short glimpses of her icy stare, "Don't suddenly be so enthusiastic. It's annoying. The hawk is extent of my efforts – and that is _it_."

"Why?" He was both indignant and accusatory yet piteous. "But why? Why can't you help us?"

"Don't risk your life for this damned hole, Fergus. It's futile. Let Esmerelle die with it," she swung a careless hand.

"I cannot acquiesce to that. _I will not!_" he stated severely. "Think about it, Ophelia..." He began to appeal solemnly, "This place we recently built – Vigil's Keep – it belongs to the Grey Wardens. Would you give up on them too, despite the fact that you essentially started all of this? Waste all of this?!" but then he ended with an expression of his frustration.

"Yes!" she challenged infuriatedly, eye-to-eye, "I would! They don't matter to me anymore!"

He jutted a palm out and emphasized, "Morrigan is out there with your child! Alive! And you will find her eventually!" he bellowed even louder, ascertaining that his fury toppled hers, _"This – I know!"_ Not yet satisfied, he added, "Amaranthine, however, is on the brink of chaos! And it is up to us – or just _me_ – to keep that from happening." Scrutinizing her still unwilling eyes, he declared, "If you'll be this selfish, then I _must_try!"

"I've dedicated my whole life to helping other people! Now, I'm tired!" she snarled in exasperation then ran weary fingers through her unkempt hair, a disorderly method of keeping it from her face. "It had always been about others and never myself," she imparted more collectedly before pacing to another column and resting a forearm and her head on it.

The chamber was soundless once again, the air not as chilly as it used to be before they released their anguish and rage unto each other.

But it was in that brief silence that Fergus remembered and calmly blurted out, "No. It had always been about you," he paused momentarily, checking that she was listening, "As children, you were _everybody's_ shining star. People cheering... Admiring you... Loving you… Until now." She didn't reply and so he continued, draining her for any type of sympathy, "I'll admit, I can only hope to do half of what you can do – even if I become a Grey Warden." He nodded to himself definitively with his assertion, "_But I have to try._I have to try to keep Amaranthine in one piece – ignoring the truth that I can die trying to do half of what you can do, sister."

Ophelia gritted her teeth then faced him again, a new sense of disdain marring her features – though tamer, "You won't give this up, will you? _You want me to beg you not to!"_

"If Amaranthine falls, Highever will be next."

"You're set on this idea that I will act if no one else does!" she presumed while panting lightly from sentimental exhaustion.

Not about to deny it, he revealed, "We can both bluff, Ophelia. But my hand is worth much more than yours and it's obvious," he referred to her self-destructive angst versus his suicide.

The rogue couldn't help but smile ridiculously at her own gullibility before claiming it, "You prepared everything in the morning when and where I'm most probable to hear about the ceremony. Otherwise, it would've already been done and you're either dead or hiding your taint from me..." She threw her hands up and surrendered, a stupid grin plastered on her feeble visage, "You obviously wish to bargain. So just tell me – what would it take for you not to gamble with your life, _huh?!"_

"It's for the good of the people and, believe it or not – _your_good too," he reminded.

"Dispose of the unnecessary admonitions and spit it!"

Like it was a trick to increase his chances, Fergus inhaled deeply, straightening his posture out before offering self-assuredly, "I want you to reclaim your place as the Warden-Commander. And, in my place, Nathaniel Howe should do the Joining."

Ophelia gawked at him, refusing to comprehend why, "That pathetic halfwit?! You must be joking!"

"No. I'm not."

"He's a spitting image of his father! He's not worth to have the title!"

He had foreseen the argument and sighed, "We should give him a chance to redeem himself."

As sad as her wrath may come and though she would lose, she didn't want to agree, "He attempted to kill me then made a fool of himself. He can't play the role and he doesn't deserve it!"

However, he couldn't fight her anymore and merely explicated composedly, "He knows of your inexplicable skill and even speculated about a demonic side. Believe me. He didn't hope to accomplish that."

"And that is the basis of your judgment? And so you let him become a 'hero?!'"

"He's not evil. I can see it in his eyes," Fergus advanced closer toward her and sought for the sister he knew by capturing her eyes. "The Joining can be torture in itself because we're giving him no choice and he'll be forced to obey our orders. Plus, we can make use of his talents for this fight at the same time."

Diamonds gleaming with profound desire for reciprocation;

Ophelia had taken a peek of him sideways and ultimately yielded, "I don't ever want to see his horrid face, unless it's contorted in pain." _If that was what he wished in exchange, she had little control over it._

"You don't have to."

Their eyes locked completely and she forewarned seriously, "If I reinstate myself, things will be different."

"I don't care. I simply want you back on your throne." He repressed to convey his contentment, not exactly there yet. "You've always spent your days productively. Sleeping day and night, merely waking to eat or wash... Don't you miss moving around and being active?" he attempted to inspire.

"With everything I had to bear with in the past year – people depending on me, left and right, and if not that, fighting me to the death. Let's not forget – the woman I had entrusted my whole heart and life with had left me. Forgive me if I'm exhausted."

"I'm still here. And so are your friends," his voice had never been so caring as he appeased, "Oghren is here. You know King Alistair came to visit. And Leliana, Zevran, and even Wynne had sent letters saying they will come by. Do you think it's fair to us to see you like this? Skin and bone?"

Ophelia unheeded his pity and ruminated for some seconds, pushing second thoughts away before concluding, "Send me the new armor as soon as possible then brief me in my room after an hour."

_"Ophelia––"_ Fergus' lips formed a miniscule smile, "I'm grateful."

[-]

_Shadows settle on the place, that you left,  
Our minds are troubled by the emptiness,  
Destroy the middle, it's a waste of time,  
From the perfect start to the finish line.  
_

[-]

Another clasp clicked as Ophelia fastened the last pearl encrusted pauldron unto the corner of her breastplate. Holding one ebony clay fabric hanging from below her winged pauldron, she raised a forearm equipped with an obsidian gauntlet then snapped the body-length side cape as if to rid it of lint. Satisfied with the more for formal than combat setup she chose for the resilient drapery, she meticulously studied herself in the floor mirror, the brightness in her bedroom more than enough after her servants tied each curtain.

Her sleek thin hair has grown past her shoulders and knotted into a low hanging-ponytail. Her lips were painted with the color of mulled wine, her eyes still sharp as jagged ice, but her skin _was as pale as soap._ Her neck was partly covered by her typical collared charcoal long-sleeve – which is then mostly covered by her oxford blue breastplate, with crisscrossing silver lines neatly pillow embossed and the same brand of encrusted pearls, and chainmail, visibly starting below her chest. On top of the combination, she had narrow leather running down her middle, decorated with gray stripes, an intricate border, and a bird-like emblem over her sternum.

She was ogling her obsidian belt when her brother's voice bothered her.

"It looks very good – better than I had envisioned."

She veered just her head for a glance of him standing by the doorway and wearing a pleasant face.

"That cape arrangement and those embedded pearls... If it were any other warrior, I would be worried for its condition. But you – you are rarely scratched or thrown off your balance," he had wandered nearer and appeared behind her. "The whole armor set has a striking edge yet remains regal and quite modest. I love it," he essentially complimented, aware that the battle raiment was a collaboration of his sister and a blacksmith. Noticing her lankiness on the other hand, he cleverly mentioned, "And once you regain proper weight, I'm sure no one would dare to question the power that exudes with you and that suit of armor."

"It is..." Ophelia pondered, cherry picking the words to say, "Refreshing. In some way..." She might be depressed, but outfitting herself with imperial clothing always lightened her up. Even when she was just a child, it made her feel like another person – _a stronger person_. The sort of empowering aura it provided was something that couldn't be hidden.

To bolster that thought, Fergus noted optimistically, "It's a new beginning."

But she didn't buy it, "That tone isn't fitting." She traveled soundlessly toward her dresser then laid her hands flat over the smooth mahogany, her reflection on it. "I'd like a few more minutes to myself, if you don't mind," she

Fergus complied without difficulty, "Of course not." He took one more appreciative look of his sister then proceeded leisurely out of the door.

Once he was out, Ophelia brushed her fingers on top of an espresso wooded jewelry box. She couldn't feel it with her skin because of her gauntlets, but she rubbed her fingers on it as if she could.

Then, mustering the oxygen in her lungs, she lifted the lid up.

[-]

_And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones,  
'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs,  
Setting fire to our insides for fun,  
Collecting names of the lovers that went wrong,  
The lovers that went wrong.  
_

[-]

The midafternoon breeze was fresh, the sun was warm but hospitable, and the not so busy path surrounded by quaint houses to Highever's most busy market was welcoming.

Or so till an auburn haired girl became visible by an empty vending stall in the distance.

"Moira, what is this?!" the girl was not too noisy but could be perceived and wielded a sharp tone.

Furthermore, a foot beside her was a male friend, silently studying what was to transpire, although with a faint smirk. He also had short black hair, blue eyes, a fair complexion, and a semi-built body.

"This can't be real…" she added when Moira arrived ever so graciously.

"I wish it wasn't," the dark head replied in the most monotone way that implied she could be at the lowest depths of displeasure.

"This is _your_surprise?" the unnamed girl's neat eyebrows slanted – and it wasn't for her best friend but the one past her.

Moira propped her side against the stall, a hand on her hip, "I did well in that department, I'm guessing."

"Oh, this is absolutely baffling," the girl agreed with a delighted voice but her phonation was mocking at best.

The one she was eyeing intently, like a snake to a tiny mouse, approached and skipping towards her with the happiest face imaginable.

And then reached for her slightly tan hand…

"My name is Ophelia. Please to meet you kindly," the little child pressed her lips on the back of her hand and ensured it was wet and slippery.

And with that, the indomitable female was not too indomitable.

_"What the–?"_the girl snatched her hand back, pretended to gag as she examined and wiped it, then towered over her with disdainful emerald eyes, "Who told you you could touch me?"

Ophelia's pearly white beam didn't fade as she answered honestly, "No one told me not."

The boy sniggered, "She's smart."

"Shut up, Rafael," the girl slapped him on the side then regarded Moira demandingly, "Who is this kid and where did she come from?"

From the squeaky voice, "I'm Ophelia, I tell you."

Moira was undoing her ponytail when she nonchalantly specified, "My apprentice."

The taller girl couldn't choose whether to laugh or insult her, _"Your apprentice?"_

Moira only bowled her eyes skywards while she finished lacing her hair.

Rafael chuckled weakly, "Long story." He wasn't going to elucidate, but the two brunettes pored over him like they would kill him otherwise. Thus, he reconsidered, "Me and Moira – and Otis, were robbing the castle like usual a week ago when we got caught by this sneaky creature here," he glimpsed at the blonde who snubbed him, but he didn't care, "Man, did she scare us with a bear-like scream. Believe it or not, she then threatened us about yelling for help if Moira doesn't become her friend – and it worked," he gesticulated with his hands like it was the simplest thing.

The girl chortled, "It's pathetic you both got caught and threatened by a kid."

"You haven't seen what she can do, yet," Moira gave her a smooth once-over as if she was judging her, "I wouldn't underestimate her."

"Oh yea?" the girl scoffed then displayed a coin purse for the 'apprentice,' "Can you take this out of my hand?" she tested.

Ophelia pointed behind her, "Oh no, a bug!" Then as the girl pivoted her head, she hastily attempted to grab the small bag. But the girl was swift and she only managed to brush her fingers against it.

"Close, but not good enough," the auburn head snickered like she had known about her trick and pretended to play dumb. "And I do hate bugs."

Ophelia pouted, "One more try?"

The girl shoved her purse down a concealed pocket while exclaiming dramatically, "Shit out of luck, nut-sack!"

Ophelia flinched a tad then mumbled, "What's a nut-s–"

"So anyway, this girl lives there?" the girl enquired, abruptly recovering composure.

"Ophelia's my name," Ophelia reminded again.

Moira crossed her arms then revealed, "She's a Cousland."

"This girl is a Cousland?" the girl wore an astonished look.

"_OPHELIA _Coushland!"

"But don't tell anyone," Moira advised. "We were lucky enough to be loose without real punishment."

"Lucky?" the girl upraised her eyebrows in a derisive fashion that Moira glowered at her and she diverted the topic, "Anyway, a real Cousland, huh?"

Moira bobbed her head, "Their youngest."

"We can sell her," the girl proposed, earning three pairs of glares before she shrugged, "Just kidding. I won't tell. _But you know..."_

Moira assumed ahead of her and reassured, "We know, Griselda, and don't worry. She's just a student. And she wants to do this. She won't be a snitch..."

Griselda posed a hand, stopping her, "I have no problems. We can use her. But this girl really wants to learn our ways?" She scanned Ophelia one more time, "This girl is real irony for you."

Ophelia drew her cowl down and emphasized on her tippy toes, _"OHH~PEE~EHYCHH~EEE~EHLL~AHYE~AAA!"_

"Ophelia!" Griselda barked, her long hair streaming down her neck as she bent over, "There! Happy, twerp?"

Ophelia hummed contentedly, _"Mmhmm."  
_  
Moira giggled with Rafael before she announced, "Onto the market, then?"

Amused by her audacity, Griselda still compared heights with Ophelia. "Teaching this kid how to steal?" she paused and smiled, "Should be fun."

Then she twisted around and Moira took her cue, leading them forward. As Ophelia drew her cowl up and trailed behind Moira and Griselda, a hand patted her head.

"Don't worry, you're in good company, Ophelia." It was Rafael.

Ophelia ducked out of his hand and shrieked, "Don't touch me, nut-sack!"

Rafael continued walking coolly but gawped in awe, "Griselda, did you see what you did?"

Griselda grinned, "Grow some, Rafael," then she threw a wink at Ophelia in approval.

Ophelia caught it and beamed blissfully in return.

"You're both sort of kid-friendly more than I am. I'm always tempted to wring her neck," Moira complained then offered, "Call me crazy, but maybe you two would like to take charge of the training?"

Rafael sighed, "Sorry. She hates me."

"No," Griselda hooked an arm over Moira's shoulders and deliberated, "If you wanted to ditch her, honey, she would've already been ditched."

Moira shook her head lazily, "I tried to but then she found me five minutes later." She looked to the skies, heaved an unfathomable breath, and prayed, "Strike me with lightning."

[-]

_We are the reckless,  
We are the wild youth,  
Chasing visions of our futures,  
One day we'll reveal the truth,  
That one will die before he gets there.  
_

[-]

Clamorous crowds, diligent shopkeepers, a barking dog, birds hovering, one golden sun…

For an hour or so while browsing in a large circle of stall vendors (and when she wasn't bellowed at for chasing a cat,) Ophelia merely observed the trio as they switched turns to pick-pocket certain wealthy targets.

Afterward, she obeyed as she was told for her assignment and described what she observed to be the art in thievery. Being five years old, she babbled, 'fast hands and looking cool,' which caused Moira to drop her head in shame, but then deemed acceptable in essence.

Soon enough, they moved on to actual stores and window-shopped in them for some minutes. A blacksmith for weapons, a blacksmith for heavy armor, an outfitter – then across a mediocre antique store, they dawdled while Moira wholly informed Ophelia of exactly what it required to pick-pocket or shoplift successfully. And of course, throughout the lecture, Ophelia tuned in. In fact, she tuned in whenever Moira was in a conversation with her – even if she wasn't directly discerning what she says (being too captivated by her beauty,) she would piece it together and get the general idea.

They reviewed it then five or ten or maybe fifteen minutes later, her daydreaming unexpectedly ended, thanks to an unknown force sent to her side.

"Hey," Rafael had nudged Ophelia, not timidly nor rudely but just a bit playfully, "Are you ready to see how it's done?"

Ophelia didn't even pay any attention to him, except for just a fleeting second to unleash an ice cold baby blue blizzard that made him cringe inwardly.

Noticing the way she snubbed him, Moira scornfully glowered at her, "Answer him, Ophelia."

Ophelia frowned for a moment, then beheld the other girl beside her, "Can't you do it?"

"I can," the corners of Griselda's lips curved upwards, "But I don't want to."

Ophelia's frown worsened.

Tired of wasting her time, Moira pinched her on the ear, "Ophelia, Rafael's going to demonstrate whether you like it or not."

"_B-but_I don't like to see him!" Ophelia inclined to her pinch to reduce the pain.

Moira asserted into her ear, clearly wishing to deafen her, "You're doing as I say or this training is over! Stop being such a brat!"

_"Okaaay!"_Ophelia wailed an arm towards Moira and got herself free.

Rafael allowed his friend to scoff before he asked, "Go?"

Bronze eyes narrowed, not necessarily because of his query. "Yea, go. And if this little gnat doesn't watch, it'll be her loss."

He nodded then casually proceeded ahead for his task.

It played quicker than it was briefed – he chose a blind-spot near two other shoppers, barely brushed his hand into a shelf, thrust the items into his pockets, then left the store.

Once he returned, he transitorily exhibited the objects he stole along with another grin on his otherwise broody countenance.

_An embroidered handkerchief, metallic totem, and pewter dice._

Ophelia created a _'hmph'_sound.

Unaffected by her behavior, Moira stooped down and instructed very close to the youngster's ear, "It's pretty simple. Just remember what I told you and what Rafael did, don't get caught, and if someone wants to know why you're there in the first place, leave and say that they didn't have what your mother was looking for."

Ophelia hesitated for a second then droned, _"Okay..."_She glanced at Griselda a final time, as if requesting for encouragement, then semi-stormed inside the rickety shop, ignorant of the building possibly collapsing on her.

But almost as soon as she stepped in the establishment, Moira, Griselda, and Rafael eyed each other inquisitively as they saw her go straight for the clerk's desk and tiptoe against it, feasibly peeping for something.

They couldn't decipher the words she was probably telling the middle-aged man who approached her. But they could certainly decipher his – although somewhat muffled by the chattering that came from everywhere else.

_"Well, hello little miss. How can I help you today?"_

_A pause as he lent an ear._

_"You lost your grandma?"_

_He had a staggered look on his face, however seemingly a façade._

_"I'm so sorry to hear that. And well, if you think candy will cheer you up..."_

_He was undoubtedly just doing it to be nice._

_"You are an adorable young lady."  
_

_Candies from a pint-sized bucket was poured into her hand._

As Ophelia strode back,

Rafael snorted,

Moira balled her fists,

And Griselda cackled.

"Here," the still-frowning blonde jutted her hand and a handful of candy toward the bearer of the only hostile face.

"You didn't even steal these!" Moira shouted, a vein popping on her temple.

"I got them for free," Ophelia explained like it wasn't science, "That's a steal."

Rafael chuckled, his shoulders rising up and down from utter glee, "As much as she hates me, I've got to hand it to her... She's crafty."

Griselda bragged, "I can do that too," then she stared at him salaciously, her voice entrancing, "but with a flash of my boob."

"_Haha._You'll get more than just candy with that, y'know."

"You would know."

"Be quiet, you two!" Moira shouted at them then shouted at Ophelia, "_Ugh! _You're defeating the whole point of this exercise!"

"Okay, okay! I will going to do it like you say in the next store!" Ophelia cried out, straining her feet frustratingly and grumbling whiningly.

"You mess up again – we're done!" Moira determined, poking daggers out from the vehemence in her eyes before spinning around and sauntering toward another shop.

"Okay, okay!" Ophelia pulled at her hair as they all followed her.

"Idiot..." Moira muttered below a whisper.

Just Griselda overheard her, "Give her some credit, she's clever…"

_"Clever idiot..."_

[-]

_And if you're still bleeding, you're the lucky ones,  
'Cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone,  
We're setting fire to our insides for fun,  
Collecting pictures from the flood that wrecked our home,  
It was a flood that wrecked this..._

_And you caused it,_  
_And you caused it,_  
_And you caused it._

[-]

"Here you go."

A set of light armor was tossed on Ophelia's head, chest, and lap, as she sat on a boulder on the side of the road. Her face was glowing a red orange – her figure the only figure facing sunset, the other three looming about her and casting elongated shadows.

"A reward for doing good," Moira clarified austerely, "It wasn't my idea – before you get any crazy ideas."

Ophelia removed the very flexible leather armor from her head and elatedly gazed up at her, _"A reward?"_

"It's insane how much you had me annoyed of you throughout this whole day," Moira cocked her head backwards like it came with her way of acknowledging anything worthy of acknowledgement, "yet surprised of how well you did in your first day."

"I make you… _PROWD?!"_Ophelia articulated the word in the most proudest fashion.

"_Uh…haha_––" Moira tramped toward her and bumped her forehead with an index, referring to her mounting ego, "not high up there yet, kiddo."

Ophelia charged forward and hugged her by the hips. "You are so beautiful, miss Moira." Her crystals were stuck on her coppers.

"Can you just..." Moira struggled to be unconfined, "Wear the outfit we bought from stolen money."

Ophelia submitted jubilantly, "Anything for you," then she picked up the apparel she let fall on the grassy plain.

From ten feet away, the trio examined their newest addition don on her attire. They chuckled as she had difficulties inserting her feet into what should be the holes for her arms. They contemplated that she always had someone to dress her in her castle.

"This girl likes you," Rafael suddenly pointed out, "I mean… _Really_ likes you," he quirked a brow for Moira.

Moira placed a palm on her forehead and rubbed it, "I don't get it either."

"This go here?" Ophelia quizzed, signaling the breastplate to be put on her chest.

They all bobbed their heads.

"Too big," she mentioned once on her, the edges of the armor past her belly.

They snickered but she didn't mind as she resumed dressing clumsily with her greaves, boots, and gauntlets. Five minutes later when she finished, she spun around and modeled the suit, copying Moira's pose with a hand on her hip while leaning on one leg.

"Cute," Rafael chortled and the two women shot him with puzzled eyes, "What? You girls should find it easier to say that. Plus, she's mean to me – she's been ignoring me the entire time and called me a nut-sack."

"Kids are disgusting," Griselda remarked and obtained fast approval from Moira, hitting a palm that was presented for her. "But this one, I can get used to," she supplemented last, which her best friend shrugged to.

"You look like a mini-me," Moira finally confessed, though with a plain tone.

Ophelia jogged toward her, "I look like mini-who?"

"Like me, but shrunken."

"But I am ugly compared to you."

Moira knelt down on one knee and bopped her on the forehead again, "Of course we don't look alike that way. I meant with the clothes, stupid."

"So I can be your sidekick now?" Ophelia redirected the subject to her favor anyway.

"No."

"But look," she rifled through the pockets of her initial clothing and retrieved a familiar coin purse.

Griselda's lime eyes widened then soured as she checked her own pockets, "Hey, _that's––!"_

"I KNOW!" Ophelia rested both her hands on her sides snootily, "I am a great thief _or what?!"_

"Oh, Griselda…" Rafael sniffed half for pity and half for joy, "_Tsk, tsk."_

Griselda was huffing wordlessly to contain her rage.

"What can I say?" Moira advocated, "Finders, keepers."

"_Hehe."_ Ophelia retrieved another coin purse and dangled it from her fingertips, "So this is mine too?"

Moira gawped and perused through her pockets, _"How did y––?!"_ she skimmed it again to make sure, "That's mine! _Yooouuu––!"_

"YOU BETTER START RUNNING!" Griselda sneered before Moira could end her sentence and they both dashed after the petite crook that did start running towards the road and in loops.

For two minutes, the duo strove to corner her into the other one. But Ophelia was a bundle of energy and outran either of them before they could.

Discovering that they couldn't trap her, Moira beseeched, "Rafael?!"

"Hey, she didn't steal from me." Rafael propped on the boulder and calmly spectated the pursuit. "I'd like to keep it that way."

Eventually, Moira had lured her into Griselda, who then extended a leg and tripped the juvenile.

"My bad," Griselda stated after the thud resounded.

"_Hmmhh…?"_ Ophelia pushed herself off the dirt ground. _"Nnghh…"_ she hastily sat up and began to inspect her legs, semi-sobbing in the midst of it all. _"Huuhuuh…HWAAAA!"_ she wailed, unfortunately realizing a cut in the only exposed area by her knee.

Griselda slapped at the air, "Oh, c'mon. It's not that bad. It'll heal," she then indifferently snatched their purses back.

But Ophelia kept wailing, tears streaming down her cheeks like a dam bursting. _"WAAAAAA!"_

"Stop, you have a mage in your home!" Moira endeavored to console, stroking her back delicately.

"_WAAAAAA–ngghh-ngh–HWAAAAAA!"_

However, that act only lasted for a few seconds. "BE SILENT!" Moira roared while she shook her by the shoulders.

"By my ancestor's tits…" In absolute irascibility, Griselda buried her hands in her hair and strived to shield her ears, "THIS IS IRRITATING!" She glared at her best friend, "Do something, Moira!"

"Hey, you tripped her!"

"I got us our purses back!"

"Fine!" Out of exasperation, Moira flung her purse on Ophelia's chest, "You can keep mine! Just stop crying, for the love of Andraste!"

"Really?" Ophelia reclaimed it and sniveled, "_I––c–can–keep––––i–it?"_

Moira waved a firm index in front of her face and demanded one condition, "If you don't cry a single tear until we get you back to your house!"

Ophelia wiped her face with the back of her hand and accepted, "O-kay…"

"Well – get up!" Moira commanded.

Ophelia wiggled her leg a bit and murmured, "It… Hurt…"

"Rafael!" Moira demanded, implying he would be the one to carry her. But Ophelia shook her head, instigating Moira to shriek, "_UGGH…!_ You're so annoying!"

_To argue or not to argue? She dreadfully wanted to be rid of her sooner._

She kicked at the dirt, cursed at the darkening skies, then roughly hauled the gnat on her back without another word.

As soon as Ophelia was mounted, Rafael was behind them and they started to march back towards the castle of Highever with the moon already sprouting from its covers in the east.

Slowly, the warm colors of the fields turned to cool colors, the heat from the sun dissipated and so the chilly wind became noticeable.

And when the sun was completely out of sight, Ophelia tapped on her mentor's shoulder and proclaimed, "Miss Moira, it's just a joke…" She amiably offered the coin purse back to her, "My mommy and daddy is rich…"

Moira couldn't help but gawk at her with softened amber eyes as she received her money back. But stubbornly hoping not to appear gentle, she simply swallowed down her guilt and didn't reply.

Not slow in reading her best friend, Griselda voiced for her, eyes not on them to obscure what she was particularly speaking of, "How sweet is that?"

[-]

_Well I've lost it all, I'm just a silhouette,  
A lifeless face that you'll soon forget,  
My eyes are damp from the words you left,  
Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest,  
Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest._

_And if you're in love, then you are the lucky one,_  
_'Cause most of us are bitter over someone,_  
_Setting fire to our insides for fun,_  
_To distract our hearts from ever missing them,_  
_But I'm forever missing her._

[-]

"Listen..."

Fergus' voice was tender,  
_Nearly as tender as the morning light,  
Or the bed's comforter which she was seated on,  
But it wasn't like the tenderness of a childhood crush's spine,  
Nor the tenderness of a lover's dawning kiss._

"It's a lot of work, but we can take it in strides."

_He sounded optimistic and caring._

"With you, there is nothing we cannot do."

_But he also sounded fretful._

Ten seconds passed then Ophelia stood and declared resolutely, "There was a time when I could instantly agree with that statement." Her back was towards him and her eyes somewhere else. "Now, not so much." She wandered toward the door. "I'm warning you, Fergus." And she halted there for a second. "Things will be different." Then she left.

[-]

_And you caused it,  
And you caused it,  
And you caused it._

* * *

**Song**

"Youth" by Daughter

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**Feedback for All of Me  
**

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**********************knives4cash**: Aww. You're too kind! Thank you so much for saying so! It is a privilege to be described as such. :)

**Dalish Elf**: Hehe. Little Ophelia's actions are based roughly on my six year old brother. He's very annoying and lies a lot but I love him. Lol. Little Ophelia's vocabulary, however, is based on my sister's! She knows more than a hundred sight words already and gets a lot of phrases from TV and knows how to use it. XD And thanks for the compliment and congratulation! I hope you enjoy what I've prepared for y'all. ;P

**geler7**: Thanks for being such a great supporter! Your reviews make me smile, I'm glad my writing makes you feel better. :D And yes! Of course, more Moira! S2

******************Lord Tubbington**: I suppose you're right. The holidays did give me some time to write but it wasn't enough. xP And no problem about the avatar! Don't apologize. I was just curious. Haha. Blowing people's minds will take some chapters, methinks. Just like with Skinny Love, I think most of the explosions will come around the middle to the end. xD Thanks for the ultra rating. You flatterer...

**LunarOphelia13**: Yes! The more emotional, the better! I just hope everyone can wait until that super moment. Lolol. Thanks for the rating. ;D

**jstarr2209**: Yea. Gotta offset the too much depress or my readers might get turned off. XD I gotta add my sense of humor in my stories somewhere or else I'll be bored too. And yuup. The harassing. It's fun. :3 Thanks for the rating!

**ThrottaKaze**: It's always nice to hear when my readers are risking sleep time just to read my stories. Thank you. S2S2 Well, if it eases your pain, you're not the only one who's heart broke. xD I do appreciate you taking that terrible blow though. Haha. And yes. I actually used that Bon Iver song for chapter 11, I think. Look below the chapter. Thanks for telling me about Daughter. I like her songs too, I even used it for this chapter, you see! Hehe. The only problem is... She specifically talks about a man so my imagination gets messed up a little when I listen to her. Lol. Hehe. I'd like to ship Moira and Ophelia too but it wouldn't be realistic. And you're accurate in your speculations. The reunion would be... A whirlwind of emotions, for sure. You can't wait how it progresses? I can't wait to write about it but I have such bad writer's blocks! And I guess I'm more like Ophelia than I thought, if people see that. I can't judge myself. xP It's a relief that you notice my effort on details, characterization, etc. That's my perfectionism emanating. Lol. No problem about rambling. I do the exact same thing while I write. Funnily, not while I speak. I speak minimally. XD

**littleleadbelly**: Heartbroken too? You're not the only one! Haha. I'm heartbroken, myself. ; 3; Anyway... Oh my goodness. You don't know how much this kind of reviews make my whole week. I reread it too. It's just so nice to see people that appreciate my work! Thank you so much! S2S2S2 I'm glad you said I focus on all the characters. I do make sure I give them life even though the story centralizes around Ophelia and Morrigan. Hehe. We're the same. I don't care too much for Leliana, either. I think she's alright. Zevran, I also loved from the beginning. And Wynne... Well, Wynne's not really a bitch to me, even when it's concerning blood magic. I think she's reasonable. Yes! About the bumbling virgin. She's not a virgin, for sure, but I reckon she didn't have much experience touching other women. Especially women with a high tolerance for pleasure like Ophelia. God, I swear... I wished you were someone that could publish my work while hearing those amazing commendations. You sound legit. It would be a dream come true. XD About Ophelia... I can't tell you how quickly I conceptualized her. I just used a default face and altered it a bit. Then her personality just developed as I played DA and imagined her. I don't know how it worked but it worked. She's like... A heaven sent idea! XD And true, about the prison break. The thing is, Ophelia was batshit crazy right there and driving Cauthrien's sword into her in that moment was just so perfect in my head. ; 3; I don't mind reading long reviews. I appreciate it so much! As you see... I even try to reply on each point. In any case, I guarantee another passion and soul and angst ride. ;D We'll see about the happy ending. I can't give you hope right now when I want you to suffer as Ophelia does! Haha. Because you're such an awesome reviewer... I'll give you some hints on the baby's name and gender... Her name is a combination of Ophelia and Morrigan (2 letters from each name) and it's short (just two syllables.) The gender... Well, have you ever heard of a 'Wizard of the Wilds?' Not me.

Thanks for the compliments, ratings, and reviews everyone! Review again please.

* * *

**Author's Note**

* * *

Sorry for the delay. I was in another writer's block. I guess... When Morrigan's not around the story, it seems that I am less motivated to write. I really just want to write how they meet but I can't skip to that part without building the tension or else you guys won't see it the way I do! Arggggh...

Anyway... Moira's story is pretty solid in my head now. Not much outlining left. Just writing... Her story's all my idea too. Not really inspired by one thing. Maybe a couple of things but very slight at that. I hope you will all enjoy how it turns out. ;)

Next update will be... I don't know. Whenever I feel like it again. I'm sorry. D: Maybe I should stop stressing for a while and play some games. Writing and drawing is feeling like a chore. xP

Please check my new artwork in my deviantART linked below. You'll see a better look of Ophelia's armor and the cover art there.

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**Rate the Chapter (5 Best, 1 Worst)**

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5 - More than entertaining. (Love it. Would read it more than once.)

4 - Entertaining. (But missing a thing or two...)

3 - Good. (But can be better.)

2 - Boring. (Scanned through just to move forward in the plot.)

1 - Redo everything bitch. (I would rather shoot myself than read this.)

* * *

**Credits**

* * *

Morrigan and the Dragon Age Universe © Bioware

Song Lyrics © Their respective artists (named above.)

Ophelia Cousland, Moira Loxley, Griselda, and Rafael © Archristol

Story © Archristol

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**Story Music ** tinyurl -dot- com /grandlovesongs

**Story Illustrations **archristol . deviantart . com

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